


Take It Or Leaf It

by VeeTheRee



Series: It's the Fluffy Destiel That Keeps Us Going [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Cas has cats, Cas provides, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean asks how to say 'fuck you' in flower, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Flowers, Fluff, Frottage, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), HAVE AT THEE, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Language of Flowers, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mild Smut, Mutual Pining, Texting, flower shop au, i wanted a happy fluffy flower universe so i fekin made it yo, it goes from there, they are named Velma and Daphne, what classifies as mild smut tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29636385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeeTheRee/pseuds/VeeTheRee
Summary: Cas is a florist. Dean is an angry customer-become-regular-become-head-over-heels. Flower puns follow. Go figure.A flower shop AU.Cas barely had time to look up over the bouquet of lavender roses he put there before a calloused hand slammed a couple bills on the counter and his eyes met a piercing, fuming, green look surrounded by exquisite freckles all around.“Quick, how do I say ‘fuck you’ in flower?” the man said, and Cas found himself at a loss for words momentarily before snapping back to present.“I, uh,” he stuttered, taken aback by the question. He blinked, taking in the rest of the stranger. He was dressed in a smart suit, cut to fit (quite nicely), hair short, brown, and ooh, the freckles. It was only April but it seemed like the guy got them quickly. Cas watched him lean into the counter with both his hands resting on the wood, the lean muscle visibly flexing even underneath the suit. “Wait, can you repeat that?”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: It's the Fluffy Destiel That Keeps Us Going [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119047
Comments: 24
Kudos: 158





	Take It Or Leaf It

**Author's Note:**

> So I was browsing pinterest for prompts and I stumbled the good ol’ “how do I say fuck you in flower?” and I immediately got struck by the muse of destiel, so here goes x)
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> **Small disclaimer:** I browsed numerous sites for the language of flowers and meaning for colours and individual plants, but there may be slight differences and if you have a correction, feel free to point it out! :3 I did my best, lol + I am not a florist but recently I have started taking great interest in the language of flowers, so I tried
> 
> If you want to suggest a prompt for the series, feel free to!
> 
> also, english isn’t my first language and even though I read through this, I apologise for any errors you may find
> 
> Here's my tumblr if you wanna submit an anon prompt or just check it out: [majesticnerdynerd](https://majesticnerdynerd.tumblr.com/)
> 
> **Enjoy!**

For Castiel, it was a Tuesday like any other. Open up the shop, check on seedlings and saplings, water the pots and check the temperature in the back room. It had to be in perfect balance, not too cold and neither too hot, otherwise the plants would suffer. He got in at five in the morning as per usual, the sun peaking over the top of the trees in the distance already. The weather grew gradually warmer, as it did towards the end of April, and at seven o’clock when everything was ready, the displays, the pots, soils, fertilizers, he turned the sign from _Closed_ to _Open_ and the day progressed. 

Cas loved his job. Sure, it deviated from his family’s plans, him seeking out the comfort and quiet of nature as opposed to wild parties and socialising, but they let him be (cut him off) when he made it clear that he had no desire to tangle in politics. He barely kept in touch, only two or three of his older brothers ever taking the time to speak to him, but he didn’t mind. Alone was fine. He made ends meet, and he got to do the work that he loved. And hey, he wasn’t _completely_ alone. He had the fluffiest, nicest, furriest cats at home to keep him company ( _and_ they’re hypoallergenic should he ever have allergic visitors) along with his plethora of succulent flora that lodged itself in every part of his life since childhood. 

His morning routine around the flower shop was generally very tame. The customers came and went, ordered, purchased on the spot, sought advice -- the usual, and Castiel was more than happy to provide. And, dare he say, he made great-looking bouquets, whether for a celebration or a funeral. Although, on one occasion, the two were combined into a singular event, but Cas learned not to question his townsfolk. 

And so, he went about checking on his precious plants, making sure that classical music was playing in the backroom and heavy metal on the floor above. His plants were picky in their music taste and sometimes the newbies took a little bit of having to be moved around to figure out what genre they liked. There were a few that liked Beyoncé and ABBA, and those had a private spot in Castiel’s office downstairs. The backyard of the lot overlooked a vast meadow that on its very back was fenced by the frontline of a nearby forest, which added to the peacefulness of Castiel’s sanctuary. He liked it here; well, he built it himself. No outer interference from his family, for once. All was good. The whole flower shop, in fact, stood on the edge of the town, secular and full of space for his tiny green friends. 

The first customer to stop by was an elderly lady, Amy, who just wanted to buy a special fertilizer for her orchids. She was chatty, pinching Cas’ cheeks when he came nearer, and he didn’t mind much, but it stung and he had to get through it somehow, right? And anyway, Amy was an adorable human being full of love to give out. As soon as he helped her carry the bottles to her car, another customer arrived, a boy wearing shorts, a yellow t-shirt, and a baseball cap. He asked for something for his mom’s birthday, so Cas whipped out yellow (thankfulness and desire for enjoyment) and pink (prosperity and abundance) lilies for the occasion. After that the boy was on his way, and the stream of feet was regular enough to keep Castiel busy throughout the day. Until lunch. 

He was going through a catalogue and noting specimens he’d like to order and introduce in the shop when the front door burst open and the bells chimed loudly, heavy thumps of two feet making their way to the cash register-cum-workstation. Cas barely had time to look up over the bouquet of lavender roses he put there before a calloused hand slammed a couple bills on the counter and his eyes met a piercing, fuming, green look surrounded by exquisite freckles all around. 

“Quick, how do I say ‘fuck you’ in flower?” the man said, and Cas found himself at a loss for words momentarily before snapping back to present. 

“I, uh,” he stuttered, taken aback by the question. He blinked, taking in the rest of the stranger. He was dressed in a smart suit, cut to fit (quite nicely), hair short, brown, and ooh, the freckles. It was only April but it seemed like the guy got them quickly. Cas watched him lean into the counter with both his hands resting on the wood, the lean muscle visibly flexing even underneath the suit. “Wait, can you repeat that?”

The man licked his lips, reached for his wallet and pulled out another twenty-dollar bill. “A guy and his boss pissed me off, but my brother told me to get them a bouquet,” he said, explaining nothing. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes when he looked up at Cas. “ _But_ he didn’t specify what kind of bouquet, and none of these monkeys in suits know shit about flowers, I bet. Me neither, that’s why I came to you. I heard you’re the best in town. So, since I likely won’t be found out by the stuck-up higher-ups whose boots I’m apparently expected to lick, which I won’t do, how do I say ‘fuck you’ in your renown flower language?”

Cas grew both more confused and intrigued while the man talked, even though his lips managed to get his attention too. He forced his brain to rack up an answer while the guy eagerly waited for a response. 

“Uhm, right.” Cas drummed his fingers atop the countertop. “Conveying the usual emotions one may express while saying ‘fuck you’ can be tricky, however. You need to tell me the exact level of your hatred.”

“Cool, I’ll be happy to let off some steam before I’m on the clock.”

“Thank you. And what’s your name?” He hoped it sounded casual as he gathered some of his supplies from under the counter. Knives, foam, ribbons, the usual. 

“Shit, yeah, sorry,” the guys said, crossing his arms as he observed Cas take out his assigned creative weaponry. “I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.”

Cas hummed, eyes downcast on a spray can that got too dirty with glitter to the point of being unusable. At least it didn’t get on the cellophane or any of his wrapping paper. He should seriously clean up frequently, this is just horrendous. Good that Dean couldn’t see the mess. 

“You can tell me about how exactly strong of a ‘fuck you’ you want to deliver, Dean,” Cas said casually, and Dean woke up from his trance where he stood. 

“Sure. Well, you see, my brother has contacts in the city hall with which he works from time to time. He’s cool like that, you know, my little guy. But shit, some of these asshats are just straight up boiling my blood. There’s this woman, Naomi, she thinks she owns the place and knows best, but I’m in no position to tell her to get her act together, you know. And my brother needs me to behave, so I try.” Here Dean rolled his eyes, making Cas chuckle. “But yesterday she said some rumours about a very good friend of mine, even though she acts all friendly around her, and I won’t stand it. So if I can’t show her the middle finger personally, I’ll be passive-aggressive. Plus, my brother pays for it.”

Cas couldn’t help but laugh. Oh yes, exploiting your relatives for one’s satisfaction was sure the best way to go. “Alright, I see. So it’s kind of a revenge to get back at her for your friend.”

“Yep. I mean, my friend doesn’t know it, but I’m glad to provide.”

“It’s very chivalrous of you.”

“Thanks! Anyway, what plants are we using?”

Dean followed Cas’ gaze around the shop. Only now did he seem to realise its potency and how big it was on the inside as well the outside. Cas smirked at the gasp that Dean made, and he started talking. 

“Alright, we’re going to make a bouquet,” Cas said. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, rubbing his hands together before circling the counter to get his flowers. “For that we need… geraniums, but what colour? Purple could be used if you wanted to silently say that Namoi is royally stupid in your opinion, pardon my language, but I think red will fit more. You know, that she is passionately stupid to the point of not knowing where the line is and overstepping it.”

Cas walked around the aisles and displays, Dean following him, gently taking the pot of red geraniums in his arms. 

“Next: foxglove. It can be used to symbolize insincerity, which she is by being two-faced. Right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Meadowsweet is a symbol of uselessness for one, so let’s grab that too, here you go.”

Dean carried the plants like a champ, impressed by Cas’ knowledge. He knew his craft well, and he’s not going to shy away from showing off.

“And here we have the yellow carnations for saying that she disappointed you, in a way, and finally: orange lilies.”

“What do these mean?”

“Confidence, pride, and wealth,” Cas said as they turned to go backtrack to the counter. Dean raised an eyebrow at the unexpected good characteristics. “But also hatred.”

The smile Dean gave Cas could light up a Christmas tree. “Perfect. Where do I, uh, put these?”

“I’ll take them.” Cas unburdened the man from his succulents, setting them on his workstation and he set to work. Dean watched him in silence, probably not wanting to disturb his florist, though Cas wouldn’t mind chatting. “Are you a PA?”

“Huh? Oh, no. God, no,” Dean laughed. He dusted off his suit jacket, and Cas only now realised that he shouldn’t have handed him the plants. Dean didn’t seem to mind, and neither was there any visible sign of his help on his surely expensive clothes. “I’m something of a security guard. And a driver. Plus lots of side jobs of my primary job, whatever the people in charge need.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Nah. I manage. S’not as bad as I thought it would be either. Keeps me on my toes, that kind of thing.”

“Well, you do get to look quite dashing,” Cas commented as he started arranging the flowers together. Dean let out a derisive snort and leaned his hip on the counter. 

“In this monkey suit?” he said, looking down on his clothes. “Not my favourite, to be honest. But thanks, I guess.”

Cas gifted him a ghost of a smile as he continued arranging, Dean falling silent as he observed him at his craft. The colours contrasted beautifully next to one another, the yellows, oranges, and reds with the purple… Finish that with a dazzling ribbon and a spray to make sure they don’t dry out quickly and voilá, you’ve got yourself a nice ‘fuck you’ gift. Done, he presented it to Dean.

“Quite striking!” the man said, grinning. 

“And full of loathing,” Cas added, winking. He was proud of it. Indeed striking, and innocuous enough to be taken as pretty and harmless instead of a passive-aggressive attack on a particular person. Cas heard bits and pieces of the town’s gossip, never paying it more attention than he ought to; it wasn’t his forte after all. Plants were better to talk to. But Dean was good too, he came to discover. “You like it?”

He watched the corners of Dean’s mouth lift upwards and curl into a smile. “Yeah! I mean, I’m not a florist nor a gardener, but this is obviously a work of art. You’re _good_ at this.”

“I should hope so, I didn’t spend years crouching in dirt to be a fake.”

“Your reputation precedes you. Oh shit.”

“What?”

“I don’t know your name. You asked for mine but I -- fuck, sorry,” Dean huffed, trying for a laugh but giving an awkward half-smile instead. 

Cas thought it hilarious. “Dean, it’s fine,” he said, biting his lower lip to prevent grinning at the man’s stuttering. “It’s not like I promote it in the first place. I’m Castiel. Nice to meet you.”

“We’re taking things the other way around, eh?”

“Does it matter?”

Dean looked in Cas’ eyes, the contact longer than should’ve been strictly necessary. But the flower shop yawned with emptiness and solitude, and no disturbance was on the rise, so who could blame them? Plus, Cas really fancied that suit and what it came with. A package deal. 

“No,” Dean drew out eventually, averting his gaze to the bouquet. He glanced at the watch at his wrist. “Shit, I better go. Can I take it?”

“Of course, that’s why I made it,” Cas said, handing the ‘fuck you’ bouquet to Dean before wiping his hands on his trousers. Dean raised an eyebrow. “What? My shop, my rules.”

“Just get some paper towels, buddy.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Good.” Dean turned on the soles of his feet to march out, battle-ready, but he stopped. “And, hey -- the money’s good? To be honest when I came in I didn’t expect to actually get a concrete answer, let alone a bouquet. I’ll tip you more if…”

“It’s alright, Dean. You paid enough, don’t worry,” Cas reassured him. He circles the counter to walk him out the door, internally concerned about his being punctual; he shouldn’t keep him too long, though he somehow wanted to. He clasped Dean’s left shoulder, patting it softly. “And I’m always glad to be of help.”

“Yeah, I know I can turn to you for whatever secret thoughts I have about a person and you can turn it into something pretty, huh?”

“That’s the idea. You know where to find me!”

Dean walked over to his car, a Chevrolet from what Cas recognised. He watched the man open the passenger’s door and gently put the bouquet there, then he slammed the side shut and winked at Cas over his shoulder. The sun shone high up and Dean’s freckles seemed to be reflecting it, adorable little speckles of mischief. Cas leaned on the frame of the entrance door, safely hid from the sun rays in the shade his flower shop cast on the sidewalk. 

“I certainly do!” Dean shouted back at him, waving him a goodbye. And with that, he jumped in his car and sped off to the city hall, presumably, to deliver his devious masked message. Cas sighed, trying to remember that soft smile. 

That’s that, then. He returned inside and decided to stick to his earlier resolution about keeping his workstation cleaner and more organised and coherent. Paper towels too -- can’t forget those. 

Towards the end of the day as Cas flipped the sign from _Open_ to _Closed_ , he wondered about how Dean’s day went. Was that Namoi woman versed in the language of flowers and got him sacked? Did she love it but remained oblivious? One thing was certain, though: Dean was a satisfied customer, and that’s what mattered. A bizarre request fulfilled. If only Cas could know how much Dean enjoyed his creation. 

Sighing, Cas turned the key in the lock and bid his succulent friends a farewell. These, he was sure would be there waiting the next day. But the handsome stranger, not so much. He commuted home to the other side of the town where his flat was to be greeted by his two fluffy cats. Later that night when he threw the takeaway cartons in the bin, he slouched on his couch, his furry balls lulling him to sleep by purring, and a wistful thought of Dean easing him deeper into unconsciousness. 

It should’ve been the end of it, their exchange the day prior. And for a week it seemed like it did, except that Cas more often than not drifted back to that odd but entertaining memory of the ‘fuck you’ bouquet. If only he had requests like that every other day. Better not, actually, or it would become repetitive. And it’s not like Dean had any need to come back now, right? Right. He should let it go. And slowly, he began to. 

However, on Friday the following week on May 7 in the afternoon, the bells chimed to announce a customer, but Cas was fumbling in the back room, repotting yellow tulips, too focused to hear the singular footsteps approaching the cash register. Until a familiar voice called out. 

“Cas? You here?”

“Dean?” Cas nearly sprinted up front, never mind the soil and dirt his clothes had sustained as collateral damage, nevermind his hands up to the half of his forearms. He wiped away the sweat off his brow and cheek. “Hi! Long time no see.”

“Hey, buddy,” Dean smiled and leaned on the counter. He shed his suit jacket and was in his trousers and dark shirt only. Off the clock, then. 

A heartbeat passed during which they both realised they’re at loss for words, but the reason was unknown. Cas beat Dean to it. “So, how was the bouquet received? Did they find out our scheme?”

“Nah, they ate it up all thankful n’ shit. So it went great! Even my brother was relieved I didn’t mess up, ha.”

“I’m glad everyone was satisfied.You had me worried for a while.”

Dean frowned. “How?”

“Uhm,” Cas gulped, “It’s silly. My imagination went off tangents whether they found out and you got fired and all. The usual.”

“Overthinking much?” Dean teased, and they both chuckled. “It’s fine. No one had a clue, which makes it even better. Thank you, my guy, you made my job wholesome.”

Cas ducked his head to hide the blush that threatened to break out all over his face. He scratched the nape of his neck, trying to shrug off the compliments. “Any time, Dean. It’s my job, after all, to make others happy in turn.”

“And you’re damn good at it. You could say you made my… _daisy_.”

Silence. Dean caught his tongue between his teeth and Cas stared. Then the pun dawned on him. “You did not!”

“Hey, you work at a flower shop!” Dean defended himself, mirthful wrinkles appearing at the outer corners of his eyes. “I only… _rose_ to the occasion.”

Cas groaned and buried his head in his hands. Oh no. He created a monster. “Oh God. Please don’t tell me you’re saying these regularly.”

“Nope, you’re the only one cursed, buddy.”

“Hm, so does that make me special?”

“Maybe. How’s business?” Dean bent in his waist to get a closer look at yellow violets. “These are cute. What are they called?”

Cas told him the name, scrubbing at his right cheek, unaware of his rather shaggy state of being. “And business is fine. Calm as per usual. People order, buy, ask for bouquets, so I make them. I was actually repotting yellow tulips in the back, that’s why I didn’t hear you at first.”

“I can see that,” Dean nodded at his hands which were still covered in a great deal of dirt in various stages of drying out. Cas reached for a paper towel under the counter and yanked at his hands to clean them off to his best ability. Damn, did he have to embarrass himself like this? Now?

“Sorry,” he said off-handedly. Dean giggled. “To be fair, you did take me by surprise. I was about to close the shop in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh.” Dean shifted where he stood, suddenly looking a bit unsure of himself. “So… Am I intruding?”

“What? No! You’re always welcome, of course.”

The bright smile untied the knot in Cas’ stomach that started forming there. He doesn’t want to come off as someone who doesn’t appreciate good company. “Do I get the VIP right to stay after hours?”

“Sure,” Cas considered it, pouting dramatically. It’s not like people come in after five, anyway. And besides, there was something about Dean he liked especially well. He was charismatic, handsome, confident, funny. The list could go on. “But under the condition that I get a pun in return.”

“You don’t mind them, huh? Good, I’m very creative.”

“Can’t wait! So, is there anything I can do for you, or?”

Tongue stuck in cheek, Dean pondered the question. “Yeah, you can. It’s a bit early for it, but Mother’s Day is coming up and I’d like to get my mom a nice arrangement of yours. Could I stop by next week?”

“Absolutely,” Cas nodded emphatically, smiling up at Dean. He wrote a quick reminder on a yellow post-it note and plastered it to his computer screen. “It’s on Sunday, correct? Okay. Do you have a celebration or are you just going to visit your mom?”

“Just a visit for a few hours. Thought I’d pop in in the morning to make her breakfast too, you know. Sam, my brother, will be coming as well, but he’s a workaholic so he’ll come around for lunch.”

“I see.”

“So… Are you working on Saturday?”

“No, I have the weekends off,” Cas said, smiling cheekily at Dean when he let out a small ‘oh’ and tipped his head down. “But I’ll make an exception for you. When do you want to get to your mom’s place?”

“Before seven, she sleeps in on Sundays so that’s to my advantage. Hey Cas -- buddy, don’t stretch yourself. It’s no big deal, flowers can survive if you stick ‘em in water, right?”

Cas raised an eyebrow. He mouthed what Dean had said, and the man opposite started babbling. “Dean, shush! I get up at five most days, this is no problem for me, I assure you. Scout’s honour. Get here at 6:20 and I’ll have it ready.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“You’re not, I’m offering. No, scratch that -- I command you to come here at 6:20 next Sunday. Plus, I have stuff to get done here anyway.” His tone was teasing and light, but the spark in his eyes must have been enough to pass on the message to Dean, for he caught on, if a little shyly. 

“You’re a hundred-percent sure.”

“Once in a lifetime offer,” Cas sighed theatrically, gazing into a faraway corner. A lightbulb lit over his head, and he shot Dean a sly look. “Take it… or _leaf_ it.”

A moment passed before they burst out into a fit of giggles. “Man, you’re awesome. How come I never stumbled upon you before?”

“I’m a hermit by default,” Cas shrugged by way of an explanation. “And besides, my shop is here, at the end of the town. If you’re not passing regularly or have the word, it’s easy to miss.”

“No, no. I pass up pretty often, I just never knew that…” He trailed off, gaze flickering between Cas and the singular lavender rose that stood in a small yellow glass vase between them that Cas put on for additional decoration. Cas inclined his head for Dean to finish, but he merely shrugged and sniffed. “Well. If I knew a florist can help me tell people to fuck off without them knowing, I’d pop in more often.”

“That warms my heart, thank you.”

“Welcome. Anyway, you said you’re closing soon? I can help you get things in order.”

Cas blinked. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it? To have Dean around for a little longer… But no, he can’t possibly exploit him like this just because Castiel has earthly sinful thoughts at night about him. Or now. Heck. 

“I -- it’s alright, Dean,” Cas started, putting up a hand. Dean gave him a look and he had to turn his back on him and pretend he’s busy peering into empty vases to hide a blush. “I don’t want to keep you, you must have plans. I appreciate it, though. No worries.”

“What if I insist?” Dean said, challenging him. Cas threw him a glance over his left shoulder to see him rolling up his shirt sleeves. Hm. Oh, damn him. He opened and closed his mouth, no real argument offering itself up for use. “Thought so. Hey, I have no plans, if that wasn’t obvious enough. And I’d love to have a look around, if you’re okay with it.”

Well, it’s not as though many people ask in the first place. Who was Cas to say no? Internally, he craved Dean’s company already. Was it desperate? Probably. Is he going to feel ashamed about it? Not much. And so, letting out a sigh of relief, Cas told Dean to turn the sign on the front door to _Closed_ and then follow him to the back. He led him through his day-to-day closing routine; put the flowers from the outside inside so as not to suffer damage from a drop in temperature, turn off the music for the night, water pots that needed it, turning on artificial lights in his office, and finally he repotted the tulips while Dean graciously took to sweeping the floor. He’d helped carry some of the specimens inside with Cas, not once batting an eye at the mix of musical repertoire blasting in the rest of the shop. He asked about names of the flowers that caught his attention and Cas gladly provided a fun fact or two as a bonus. Dean absorbed it all, attentive throughout Cas’ tirades, even when the florist himself became flustered with himself at how much he talked. Once Cas was done with the tulips, he got a towel he hung up nearby to clean his hands (he always forgets to put on the gloves, damnit) and Dean put the broom aside. 

“All good? Anything else I can help with?”

Cas waved him off. “You helped plenty. Thank you, Dean.”

Dean stepped closer, a playful spark in his eyes. Cas swallowed and tossed the towel aside, trying to act casual. “You missed a spot,” Dean said, leaning in and swiping his thumb over Cas’ cheekbone. He felt his skin heat up under the soft scrutiny of that green gaze, and before he could give it a second thought, he stuttered, cleared his throat, and thanked Dean again. He patted him on the shoulder, squeezing lightly as panic seeped through him and he fished out his keys to lock up. 

Smirking, Dean wordlessly trailed after Cas. It would be too easy to cradle his cheeks and kiss him right then and there, but Castiel’s Gay Panic™ proved to be his enemy number one. Damnit! Oh, wake up -- he isn’t even sure whether this tension between them is mutual. Or maybe it is? He wouldn’t know, he hasn’t dated in ages. Should he read into this? Oh no, what if he blew his chances? 

“Why don’t you live here?” Dean asked suddenly, tearing Cas out from cursing himself into mental oblivion.

“Sorry?”

“The shop -- it’s a house that accommodates it, basically. Transformed here and there, but from the peek I got upstairs, it’s perfectly fit as living quarters. Wouldn’t it be, I dunno, better? You wouldn’t have to drive to work every day.”

Cas shrugged as he turned the lock and twisted the door handle a few times to make sure it was locked properly. “True, but I like to travel. It takes my mind off things and it helps if I want to space out. Plus, I don’t drive. I commute and take the bus, then walk some distance on foot.”

“Yeah?” Dean seemed mildly impressed. “Can’t argue with that. Where do you live, then?”

“North uptown, Empty Street.”

“Got an apartment there?”

“Yep, a small one.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully, regarding Cas with curiosity. “How long does it take you on average?”

“An hour and a half,” Cas replied and Dean gaped. “What? There’s traffic, and the other routes would take longer. I don’t mind it, Dean, I find it quite relaxing.”

“Still, an hour and a half? That’s crazy.” They stood facing each other, pondering, the sun setting down on the horizon and casting orange light upon them. As Cas was about to awkwardly excuse himself, Dean spoke. “Let me give you a lift.”

“That’s hardly necessary --”

“Shut up,” Dean chastised him, clasping his shoulder and leading him to his car. “Take it as an extra thank you for your offer to make my mom a bouquet at six in the morning on your day off.”

Cas didn’t know how to respond to his kindness, really, so he just rolled along with it. He had no other option, Dean’s grasp was firm and unrelenting, not wanting to let him escape. The touch was grounding, calming. So Cas sat in the passenger’s seat, this time listening to Dean talk about his car -- Chevy Impala ‘67 -- and Led Zeppelin. Cas didn’t need to navigate him, Dean obviously knew his way around the town, so he could slouch in his seat and longingly stare at the profile of this gorgeous looking guy. There were more freckles dotting his skin now that summer was fast approaching. Cute. 

“Which building is it?” Dean asked once they arrived at his street. Cas pointed at a building on the right and Dean drove closer right in front of the entrance. “Wow. Pretty colourful.”

The flats were recently touched-up when the city council invested into insulation and upkeep of certain parts of the town so that investors thought them modern. Kind of preposterous from their side, but the inhabitants here wouldn’t complain as long as the roof over their heads was comfortable. And Castiel’s building happened to be rainbow. Just like his sexual orientation. 

“Indeed,” he said, returning to Earth and Dean. He didn’t know what else to say. One string was pulling him outside the car, another towards Dean. But they barely know each other! 

“Hey, uhm,” Dean interrupted his train of thought, checking his watch. “Listen, we got here in thirty minutes. I was thinking that I could, I dunno, pick you up on Sunday next week too. You wouldn’t have to get up so early and I can give you a lift back too. My mom lives in the outskirts, so…”

There wasn’t a point in refusing. Dean would insist, but now his fingers tapped the steering wheel, eyes flickering back and forth between Cas and the apartment building. Cas had to smile. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one overthinking this. But he likes a bit of cat-and-mouse chase first. 

“Alright,” he said, taking out his phone, handing it out to Dean. Cas bit his lip to suppress a grin. “Put your number in. I’ll know you’re calling that way.”

Dean snatched the smartphone and tapped the numerals in, the tension releasing from him instantly. He beamed at Cas when he got out, waving him a goodbye. Cas exhaled as he watched the Impala disappear behind the corner, feeling infinite times lighter and alive. He made his way to the uppermost flat of the building where his kitties eagerly awaited his return, meowing greetings and cries of hunger. Cas barely filled their bowls with their favourite brand of food before a frantic knock on his door demanded his presence. 

“Hey Kelly --” He was cut off by his crazy neighbour friend as she barged in, chattering a mile an hour excitedly. 

“I saw that! I _so_ saw that!” she said, jumping up and down, unable to help it. Cas’ eyebrows met his hairline. “Who was it? A barista from Starbucks? A hot firefighter?”

“What? Wait -- did you peep on me from your window?”

Kelly gave him a look. “Of course? I have to make sure you get home alright.”

“Thanks, I guess. And uhm, none of your business? It may have been a nice samaritan of the church giving me a friendly ride.”

“The church? Seriously? Don’t try to fool me, Castiel,” Kelly chastised him and made herself at home. Cas closed the door and got them both a glass of apple juice. This was sort of their ritual, visiting each other from time to time, and Kelly was a good friend. One of the very few he had. She kicked his shin. “Spill the tea, come on. You, Mr Ecology-Friendly Guy, don’t get escorted home every day. This is big news! I need the gossip, Cas.”

He held up a forefinger as his phone chirped. Unwillingly, he smiled at the screen -- Dean had apparently memorised his number and sent him a text message:

_**What do you call flowers who are BFFs? Buds.** _

Cas snorted, however cheap the joke was, and sent out a short reply. Kelly peered over his shoulder and oohed. Then she groaned as she read the abomination of a pun; she didn’t have appreciation for them. “Atrocious, but I’m intrigued,” she said. “Who is this mysterious, terrible joker?”

“You won’t let it go, will you?”

“Nope!”

A sigh. “It’s not like Dean and I have a date…”

“He has a name! His car looked cool.”

“How could you see it? You live on the floor below me and your view is obscured by birches…”

“I went shopping for Mrs Smith on the first floor,” Kelly explained, tucking her feet under her. The cats finished eating and jumped in their laps, touch-starved after hours of fending for themselves. “And I happened to peep on you. Shame I don’t see your guy. Is he handsome?”

Cas chuckled. “Very.”

Next, he was interrogated for the length of the entire evening. He and Kelly ordered takeaway and mused about how this was going to develop. Well, she did. Cas tried to let it be and not overthink. Trading numbers didn’t have to be that deep of a gesture. Kelly then left at around midnight, having to get up at six for her job as a secretary for the mayor, but not sooner than she wished the cats a good night’s sleep and hugged Cas to wish him good luck and to keep her updated. 

When he was done with his bathroom routine, Cas plopped on his bed face-down, gathering a pillow in his arms to hug. He checked his phone which lay abandoned on his bedside table. And sure enough, Dean sent him another message. 

_**Hey, I know another joke you’ll know the answer to: What does a flower say when it’s offering you a job?** _

He sent it two hours ago. Cas bit his lip, cringing internally that he left him hanging like this. To be fair, he was busy thanks to his friend who went on and on how she can feel that this is the one for him. Cas didn’t mind, Kelly was hyperactive like that a lot while he was the constant force to ground her sometimes. They supported each other, thick as thieves, having been friends since college, and she saw Cas live on his own for years, it only makes sense she gets fired up about this. 

Subconsciously, Cas smiled to himself and thought of his pun from earlier he told Dean. He typed out: _Take it or leaf it_. The reply came almost immediately. 

_**There we go! Thought you ditched me for a sec** _

_Sorry_ , he sent an apology, rubbing his cheek on the smooth surface of his pillow case. _My friend came over and she wanted gossip._

_**What kind of gossip?** _

_Personal gossip, neighbour gossip, town gossip, you name it. Then she baby talked my cats, dissed me for always ordering takeaway, and then proceeded to steal food from my plate when she devoured hers._

_**Cats?** _

_Yes, I have 2 little devils._

_**That’s nice. Too bad I’m allergic.** _

_Mine are hypoallergenic :)_

He had to wait for a response for five minutes, in the meantime of which he started drifting off, eyelids heavy. Velma jumped on the bed, her paws elegantly tiptoeing over the duvet and up on Cas’ back where she proceeded to sit down and purr. He named her Velma after his goddaughter Claire begged him to when she was watching Scooby Doo. She was her favourite. His second cat was named Daphne to complete the picture for obvious reasons. 

His phone lit up at the notification and Cas blearily blinked his eyes. It was close to one o’clock. Good thing he has the day off and can sleep in. He’ll check up on the shop soon after lunch. He read the message.

_**Neat! Honestly, it’s a russian roulette with these furballs. You never know when you gonna sneeze** _

Cas huffed, too tired to laugh. Velma let out a soft meow and curled herself behind his head, her purring vibrating through his hair and skull, lulling him further to sleep. He typed out a response, barely seeing the screen. 

_I can assure you your airways aren’t at risk at my flat. For the most part. Thank you for your help and the lift today, by the way. I appreciate it, really. It was nice seeing you again. :)_

_**And now you have my number and won’t get rid of me :D** **I should bounce now, gotta wake up early and all Good night, Cas**_

Cas smiled into his pillow, using up all of his remaining brain juice to formulate a simple reply.

_Goodnight, Dean_

The next few days passed in a flurry of motion. There have been texts, lots of them, jokes, more puns, and shared opinions on various cuisines and food. Their tastes weren’t that different, but their favourite number one foods were polar opposites. While Cas loved and cherished peanut butter and jelly, Dean could eat bacon cheese burgers all day long. Then they both got hungry and had to go make their respective favourites. 

As their messages became more frequent, Cas found himself adoring the man on the other end of the line, eagerly awaiting a response or a spontaneous text about how shitty the traffic is and why can’t Dean drive the Impala and instead has to use the work cars and listen to pop music? Cas in turn told him about the bouquets people had ordered and provided the flower meanings when Dean asked for them. 

Slowly but steadily, Sunday approached, and Cas grew agitated. What should he wear? No, that’s dily. This isn’t a date. They’re friends, so far, and as such he shouldn’t overdo it. Still, he couldn’t help it and he hovered in front of his wardrobe, staring blankly at his selection of shirts. Most of them were white and a few were coloured. It worked best for him, this simple attire. He should stick to it. 

“Meow,” Daphne confirmed from where she lay on Cas’ bed. 

“I know,” he sighed, taking a seat next to her. “But hey, I get to see Dean tomorrow. Did I tell you he’ll come pick me up? He offered. And he said he’ll give me a ride back too, but I think I’ll stay at the shop for a few hours to double check everything. He’s sweet.”

“Meow.”

“Yeah. I like him.”

“Meow?”

“I do. He’s funny. And we both have atrocious taste in puns. And so far it seems pretty mutual if you ask me.”

Daphne climbed into his lap, her paws massaging his thighs before circling around her axis once and settling down. Cas petted her, his mind emptying of any nervousness he may have felt before. Some time later when he got out of the shower, his phone lit up upon the arrival of a new text message.

_**So when’s a good time to pick you up?** _

Cas smiled at his phone, biting his lip. He threw the device on the bed, changed into his boxer briefs, then buried himself under the duvet. 

_5:50 should be fine, I think. There’ll be no traffic that early. But if it’s too soon I’ll take the bus :)_

_**No way, sunshine, no backing out now ;)** _

_:)_

_**:))** _

_I’ll see you then, Dean Good night_

_**Night, buddy** _

Morning came crashing on Castiel, his alarm clock rudely interrupting a dream he was having and now he didn’t remember any of it, only the feeling of contentedness and unconditional happiness. Daphne and Velma were curled on fluffy balls on either side of him, unbothered by the noise. It was 5:30, he had twenty minutes to get ready. 

The moment he put his foot on the floor, the cats suddenly came to life, brushing against his calves and loudly demanding he feeds them. Cas padded in the kitchen, fishing cat food from a cabinet above the sink -- the only place the cats wouldn’t be able to get to in his absence. He poured them each an amount they’d finish and then went about his morning routine: brush teeth, have a quick shower, dress, make PB&J… 

At 5:48 his phone chimed, announcing Dean’s arrival downstairs. Cas was ready by then, taking his keys and breakfast packed in his satchel and locking the flat as he bid his kitties a goodbye. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he got in the Impala. 

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Dean said, smiling from ear to ear. He lifted an eyebrow when Cas outstretched a paper bag to him. He’d made him a sandwich too, just for the heck of it. “What’s this?”

“PB&J,” Cas said, clearing his throat to make his sleepy raspiness go away. “Thought I’d share. I have my own in the satchel.”

“That’s… thanks!” Dean brightened up, digging into it and taking a bite outright. He moaned, nodding appreciatively. “This is so good.”

“I used raspberry jelly. I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it.”

They drove for ten minutes, Dean taking advantage of almost no cars being on the road yet. He took shortcuts where he could, and it amazed Cas that he knew his way around that well. During the short ride they talked about the past week, and Cas silently relished the opportunity to be able to watch Dean’s profile again. He looked even better, sharper and softer at the same time in the morning glow of the rising sun. 

Once they got to the flower shop, Cas set out to work immediately. He’s given it some thought in the past seven days, and with Dean’s permission he made a bouquet consisting of white and pink roses. His mom loved them, even had a garden where she grew her own flowers, but Cas kicked it up a notch by adding a singular pink tulip in the middle of the bouquet. In the meantime, Dean was spinning on a wheely chair in the corner to pass the time. When Cas announced he was done, he came up behind him to have a look. 

“It’s beautiful,” he said. He put an arm around Cas’ shoulder and squeezed. “Mom will love it. Thanks, Cas.”

“You’re welcome. Send my best wishes to her.”

“Will do. Jeez, I bet your mom gets the best bouquet ever, doesn’t she?”

Cas tilted his head to the side, putting the bouquet in a vase while he cleaned up. “Not really, I don’t have a mom.”

He could practically hear the penny drop. Dean fell silent, inhaling and exhaling sharply. “Fuck, Cas, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t,” Cas replied, giving him a reassuring smile. He patted him on the back and let his gaze wander over him, the casual clothes he wore -- the grey t-shirt, the flannel shirt, jeans. He liked him in a suit but this was somehow entirely Dean in its essence that he likes it a tad more. 

Dean wasn’t placated. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s only logical you did,” Cas countered. “And it’s fine. I never knew her personally. I was raised by my father and a bunch of other siblings. No harm done, Dean. Don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?”

“Still. I’m sorry.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Apology accepted, if it makes you feel better.”

“Ass. But really, thank you. You whipped it out in less than ten minutes. Wow.”

“I’m good at my job, what can I say?”

“Of course you are,” Dean bumped their shoulders, grinning. “It’s 6:22. Should we bounce?”

Cas wiped the counter surface clean and tossed the paper towel in the bin. He wanted to spend more time in Dean’s proximity, but he also had to check up on the flowers and water what was needed. “Er, I have to… You know.” He gestured wildly in the direction of the rest of the house to indicate his duties. “But thank you for the ride. I’ll take the bus home.”

“Oh, sure. No problem.” If Cas didn’t know better, he’d say Dean looked a little lost for words, his lips pouted and chin nodding up and down. Then, as if struck by lightning, he frantically reached for his pocket. “How much for the bouquet?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Bullshit, I have to pay.”

“Dean…”

“Nah, buddy,” he slammed thirty dollars on the wood and cast Cas a determined look. “Take it or leaf it!”

Cas chuckled, shoving him playfully and he put the money in the register. “You’re impossible. Not to say I don’t enjoy your company, but if you want to get to your mom’s by seven, you should probably go. Be punctual and all.”

“You enjoy my company, huh?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Yes, very much so,” said Cas truthfully. Dean’s expression remained bright, but softened somewhat at the honest declaration. 

“Good. Me too. I uh, better get going, then. Text me when you get home?”

An indescribable need to hug him almost overruled Cas, but he resisted. Barely. “Alright, Dean.”

The day progressed in its own tempo after Cas saw Dean out the door. He made sure every plant was watered to its needs, he tended to the garden outside until the sun was sky high, and he ate his PB&J for lunch. He hadn’t realised how hungry he truly was until he smelled the peanut butter. He devoured the sandwiches in under five minutes. Upon checking his phone, he saw that Dean sent him a text with a photo attached -- a selfie. The photo showed him and presumably his mom, a nice blonde who held the bouquet in her arms with utmost care, and Dean sat next to her, both of them smiling at the camera.

_**She loves it!**_ Dean texted. _**Thank you again, I think I beat my brother this year ;)**_

_I take it she loved breakfast too?_ Cas wrote back, the reply coming instantly.

_**Naturally, I’m a good cook** _

**__** _No doubt. Kelly makes fun of me that I can’t cook but I beg to differ, I make the perfect PB &J._

_**That doesn’t count as cooking, buddy** _

**__** _:(_

_**:/** _

Cas drank the last of his water bottle and crumbled it as much as he was able to before disposing of it. It was almost one in the afternoon. He was done with everything, and the plants were ready for the upcoming week. 

_Never mind that, I live. I think I’ll go home now._

_**Done at the shop?** _

**__** _Yep._

_**Cool, me too, coincidentally Want me to pick you up? It’s no bother** _

Oh, but the universe is rarely ever so lazy, isn’t it? Cas smiled to himself. Coincidence. It’s a funny concept in and of itself. Funny how it seems to have worked out just in time as Cas was about to go take the bus. Lips upturned, he sent him an affirmation, locked up, and waited in the shade. 

This friendship of theirs continued to develop further, strengthening, until the romantic tension that was present since their fated meeting in the flower shop started to grow at an alarming speed. Cas saw more of Dean nowadays, the latter visiting the shop as often as humanly possible. He usually brought food or coffee, which was beyond pleasant. Dean came to realise that Cas really didn’t cook all that much by himself, so when he swung by he always had a tupperware full of some goodies either he or his mom prepared and he glared at Cas until he ate the last drop of the food while friendly-bitching about his eating habits. There were lingering looks and touches now, too, even though unaddressed for the most part. They happened on their own; there was that pat on the shoulder when Cas passed Dean on his way to the back room, cheeks almost pressed together when Dean came up from behind Cas as he took a closer look at a bouquet his florist friend was pre-making for a display, and the exchanged mirthful looks when they gossiped over lunch or very early dinners in Cas’ office after their jobs were over. 

But despite the evident want for one another, neither of them made a move yet. May transformed into June and the weather became hotter by the day, and the same could apply to Dean if it were up to Cas. The inconspicuous glances and looks developed into full blown staring when either of them turned away, and checking out didn’t even cover it. They talked into the vee hours of the morning if they had the energy, trading fun facts about themselves. Cas learned that Dean was an aquarius, he’d studied engineering in college and helped out their family friend Bobby at his scrapyard or worked on cars in his spare time. He had a younger brother, Sam, who worked as a lawyer for a local company, and his mom was a kindergarten teacher. In turn, Dean discovered that Cas’ adopted cats Velma and Daphne are indeed named after the Scooby Doo characters, a fact he celebrated enthusiastically by starting a debate about TV shows and cartoons, an area in which he never lacked trivia. Cas thought it extremely adorable and made a mental note to get Dean talking at length next time they met so that he could shamelessly look at him without obstruction. 

In the meantime, if Cas wasn’t busy texting Dean, Kelly kept poking him to do _something_. “Just ask him out!” she’d said during one of her periodical visits. “You’re both pining, that much is obvious.”

“It’s not that simple,” Cas had replied, washing his hands at the sink. Kelly had given him an exasperated look. “To my defense, I think we’re getting there. We’ve been friends for over a month, Kelly. Can’t rush it, can we?”

Kelly had shifted in her seat, sipping her juice. “You did catch him looking at your ass yesterday, didn’t you?”

“How’s that relevant?”

“Huh, so you did too. I mean, naturally. He’s spending time with you at the flower shop, helps you clean up and all, he’s nice, he makes you eat.”

“He also brings coffee.”

“You see?” Kelly had beamed at him across the kitchen table. “He’s thoughtful! Caring! Into you! How else am I supposed to spell it out for you, Cas? Either of you should make a move, period.”

He knew she was right. Kelly had his back, and he felt the pull towards Dean as well, and it seemed to be mutual, very. And so, he decided that he will get into action. 

On June 25, Dean was once again driving Cas home. It was the hottest day yet, and they had spent two additional hours at the flower shop watering the outside garden to make up for the heat wave. They were both sweaty and filthy by the end of it, but the house/shop didn’t have a working shower, so they had to stay in their dirty clothes. The rather thirsty glances Cas caught Dean throwing at him weren’t due to dehydration only, he knew. The silent, invisible bond between them seemed to be stronger today, and the quiet looks exchanged as they worked efficiently out in the afternoon sun said more than a thousand words could. A mutual understanding seemed to have passed between Cas and Dean, subtle, but it was there all the same. The only thing left to do was to voice it. 

“Here we are, then,” Dean said, pulling the handbrake. He leaned back into his seat, his grey t-shirt sticking to him. Neither man moved a muscle, not an inch. 

“Yeah, thank you,” Cas said, staying where he sat. Dean turned off the radio, his finger drumming on the steering wheel as Cas ran his hands over his thighs. “Uhm, listen. I know there isn’t a shower at the flower shop, but it’s hot, and if you’d like to refresh yourself a bit, you can come over to my flat?”

A heartbeat passed. “Sure!” Dean looked him up and down. Cas looked back. The engine turned off. “God knows I stink.”

They got out, Dean following Cas inside the apartment building. It was quiet, as if anticipating what will happen next, the tension building up further. Their hands brushed once or twice before getting into the elevator, Cas not bothering to hide his stares anymore. Standing inside, Cas pressed the button that would take them to the tenth floor and stepped back. 

“You’re on the top?” Dean asked casually. Cas raised an eyebrow and leaned his hip on the rail on the side of the elevator. Dean kept their distance short, not wanting to go astray. His gaze was intense when their eyes connected, burning with desire. 

Cas licked his lips, eyes flicking from Dean’s to his eyes. “You’re going to find out.”

And he did, right then and there. They lounged at each other, hands grabbing and cupping and squeezing whatever bit they reached, roaming and exploring the vast expanse of their bodies. Their lips crashed together, frantic and uncoordinated at first, but quickly they found their rhythm and Dean crowded Cas up the wall, chests pressing together. He stood in the vee of Cas’ spread legs, hooking one of them up, calloused fingers trailing the length of his thigh. Cas took it one step further and sneaked a hand under Dean’s shirt, the hot skin underneath sticky with sweat, not that he was any better for it. With each second, Cas grew desperate for more, and so did Dean. 

But the kisses, ooh. Dean’s lips felt exactly how Cas imagined it the past few weeks. Soft like pillows but firm at the same time to send his nervous system crashing down with indescribable need and hunger. When they broke apart to gasp for breath, Cas reached out to cup Dean’s jaw, feeling the beginnings of a stubble under his fingertips. He moved into Dean’s short hair, prompting his head to tip forward until their foreheads touched, his other hand still caressing the small of Dean’s back. 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean sighed shakily. He huffed out a small laugh, stealing another kiss. “You’ve been driving me mad for _weeks_.”

Cas slid his hand lower down his back and under his jeans and squeezed, relishing the tiny squeal that escaped Dean’s throat, swallowing it right back with another fervent kiss. He bucked, making them both moan as their hard-ons pressed together. “It’s been the same for me.”

Dean’s gaze darkened, but before either of them could initiate a new makeout session, the elevator beeped on the eight floor and the doors and they separated in the blink of an eye as a neighbor carrying a heavy box stepped in. He nodded at Cas, taking up space of the second half of the elevator, staring straight ahead until they got to the ninth floor where he got out. 

“He could’ve just taken the stairs,” Dean grumbled, blowing out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

“Humans are inherently lazy creatures,” Cas smirked, shrugging, and the handle above the doors shifted to the number 10. He entwined his fingers with Dean’s, tugging him forwards and out to his flat. An advantage of living so high up was that his apartment was the sole one on the top with no nosy neighbour to watch him bring home guests through a peephole. 

Cas fumbled with the lock, impatient to get inside and finish what he’s started with Dean, but his attempt at opening his front door was muddled by said romantic interest hugging him from behind, large hands roaming all over his torso, his stomach, his pecs, his waist, and finally his groin. Cas groaned and bucked forward, but Dean withdrew his touch and instead kissed the nape of his neck. 

“Are we getting in or should I take you up against the door?” he asked, whispering in Cas’ ear. He shuddered, the mental image alone sending thrilled shivers down his spine. But oh, _we’ll see who takes who_ , he thought. 

“I’d be able to do it sooner if you weren’t so distracting,” Cas accused, finally getting the key in the lock and turning. They tumbled inside, laughing, and then Cas took his chance and slammed Dean against the door, putting his knee between his legs and carefully pressing in, just to show him exactly how mad he can drive him. 

Dean’s head rolled back, thumping against the wood, and Cas leaned in to lick at the exposed column of his neck, salty with sweat. Kisses trailed down to his collarbone while Cas’ hands worked on untucking Dean’s t-shirt, lifting it up and over his head, neither man bothered by where it landed. Trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons on Cas’ shirt who, in the meantime, kissed lower and lower until he got to Dean’s nipples, gently nipping and licking until wantonly moans reached him, making the heat in his stomach pool into his groin. 

A tug at his hair pulled Cas back up to Dean’s mouth, their kisses becoming desperate by the second, and soon they were rutting against each other, trading lewd noises and swallowing the other’s groans. Cas shrugged off his shirt at last and Dean’s attention returned the favour, and Cas had to come in the next minute or he’ll spontaneously combust, he was sure of it. He cupped the bulge in Dean’s pants despite the awkward angle, working his palm in rhythmical movements, kissing Dean’s neck and sucking on the soft skin where neck meets shoulder. Dean grabbed his butt with both hands, grinding him against his leg until they were panting into each other’s mouths, the heat building up and up. 

Dean was moaning praises, and Cas’ own name on his lips was the last thing he needed to push over the edge, the heat suddenly exploding, painting stars across his closed eyelids, electricity tingling every single part of his body, and with a last grind of his palm he dragged Dean with him, the two of them going still in the other’s arms, slumping against the hardness of the wooden door. 

Cas rested his forehead in the crook of Dean’s neck, breathing hard. Dean hugged him, planting a kiss in his messy, sweat-soaked hair. That shower was definitely viable right now. “That was…”

“Mhm,” Dean hummed, content. This felt good, except for the sticky part, both in his pants and in general. “God, I wanted you for so long.”

“Meow.”

“Did you just meow at me?”

“No,” Cas giggled, twisting to look at the floor where his cats curiously observed the strange sweaty humans before them. “That’s Velma and Daphne. Girls, meet Dean. He’s going to be around a lot more now.”

Dean swatted his butt, grinning. “Am I?”

“If you want to, you’re definitely invited. Indefinitely,” Cas added, thumb brushing Dean’s upper lip. He looked up as it curled into a smile. 

“I’d love to,” he whispered, kissing Cas, but the latter stepped back, careful not to squash the cats’ paws. “I wasn’t done!”

“I’m not either.” Cas wiggled his eyebrow, jerking his chin towards the bathroom. “But we might as well make use of the shower, don’t you think?”

A look not completely unlike a hungry animal’s came over Dean’s face, and soon belts and trousers and soiled boxer briefs joined the shirts on the floor while feet hurried under the shower head. 

That night, Dean stayed over.

**Author's Note:**

> I have more in mind for this Flower Shop AU, should I make it into its own series? Or just add chapters here?
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! <3
> 
> _-lavender roses love at first sight_
> 
> _-yellow tulips can mean hopeless love_
> 
> _-yellow violets stand for happiness_


End file.
